


Playdate

by Ori (magnetium)



Category: True Blood
Genre: Age Play, Bloodplay, Foot Fetish, M/M, Medical Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-15
Updated: 2009-11-15
Packaged: 2017-12-29 05:40:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1001663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetium/pseuds/Ori
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Godric and Eric have had centuries to perfect their games.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playdate

The building loomed before them like a sheer cliff, four grey slabs of concrete pockmarked with hundreds of barred windows. Since its abandonment, it had fallen into disrepair, and clumps of ivy wormed their way up the sides, dislodging chunks of stone into the parking lot below. Eric stood at the edge of the lot, looking at the building he had become so familiar with during the past week. It had taken a little scouting to find a suitable exam room—one that hadn't been trashed by the vacating tenants, or filled with filth from the squatters that had called this place their temporary home. Then there was the issue of the floors: most of them were made of rotted wood, covered in cracked linoleum, and an excess of weight tended to cause them to buckle underneath a person. He'd come home in a particularly dark mood the night he'd had to wait for his broken leg to heal before he could get back up.

It would have been easier just to sneak into a room at a fully-functional hospital somewhere, with proper lighting and implements at the ready, but Eric had wanted the promise of privacy for tonight. This building also gave the entire affair a macabre sensibility that he liked. Years ago, it had begun as a community hospital and been converted into a mental institution after the construction of the city's central hospital. The ER had become the solitary confinement annex, and what was once a pregnancy ward had been turned into the wing for sexual offenders—a fact that amused him. In the basement, there were still intact rooms where the psychiatrists had performed electro-stimulation therapy on their patients. Eric had plans for that equipment, too, once the space could be dried out; it was damp and filled with standing water at the moment, and while little shocks were fun, big shocks were less so.

"What do you think?" He turned to Godric, who stood beside him, his arms crossed as he gazed at the monolithic structure.

Godric nodded. "It looks like it will do." He tilted his head to one side. "How do we get in?"

"The easiest way is the east stairwell. This way." Eric shouldered the duffel bag he'd brought and together they walked toward the building, covering the distance quickly. When they reached the rusted yellow door on its east side, he spun in the combination on the padlock he'd placed and pulled the chains through the empty hole where the doorknob had been. It wasn't the most secure set-up: one quick blow with a sledgehammer to the lock housing beside the door and the chain would simply fall to the ground. However, he only needed to discourage entry, not block it altogether. If any humans happened to enter while he was away, Eric considered it his right to show them their error by quenching his thirst. Scouting an abandoned building was a dehydrating business.

They entered the stairwell, climbing up the sturdy, concrete steps. These were in good shape—Eric had only needed to clear some garbage away. It was not in his nature to care about things like that, but he had known Godric would notice, even if he said nothing. Wading through garbage on their way in would hardly contribute to the atmosphere of medical sterility that Eric was trying to create.

On the fifth floor, Eric stopped and pushed open the double doors to the ward, leading Godric in.

"This floor is mostly secure. Just don't step all the way over on the left."

Godric sniffed the air. "There was a lot of blood shed in here."

"There was a lot of everything shed. This was the violent offenders ward."

Godric reached out, taking his hand. "Do you feel it? There is still madness in the air. Blood-lust."

"I'm just getting lust." Eric eyed him with a smile, then turned his hand, taking Godric by the wrist and leading him along. Godric chuckled and let himself be taken. He was not so easily directed most of the time, but tonight a silent agreement hung between them that Eric would take the lead.

The second exam room, after the bedrooms, was the one he had selected for their activities. It was relatively untouched, as was most of the ward. Perhaps the humans who had come exploring before him had avoided the area on instinct, sensing the same madness that Godric now felt.

"A real exam table," Godric said, as they stepped inside. He ran his hands along it, eyebrows raised in surprise and delight. It was of a distinctly old-fashioned design, and although Eric had no doubt it would take Godric’s weight, he wouldn’t have wanted to test it too roughly himself.

"I told you. They had their own infirmary on this wing. They couldn't take these inmates to the general one on the first floor." Eric had carefully taped together the places where the leather had split on the exam table cushions, and they were now covered in a smooth sheet of thin safety paper that ran up like a stripe. He reached out and flipped a switch on the lamp in the corner, waiting a moment until the generator on the roof turned on and it flickered to life. The room filled with a soft glow. All of the surfaces gleamed under the light, and there was a slight antiseptic smell in the air from his earlier cleaning.

"I must say, Eric, I'm impressed." Godric's eyebrows were raised, wrinkling his forehead. "This was a lot of work."

"All in the name of science," Eric murmured, wrapping an arm around Godric from behind and snaking one hand under his shirt. "Now, you undress while I set up my tools."

Godric leaned back against him. "Is it time for my check-up?" He pushed back against Eric's hips.

"Yes. I need to make sure you're a healthy, growing boy." Eric leaned down, dragging his nose across the skin on Godric's neck, breathing in his maker's scent. This flesh and the blood beneath it held an unmistakable smell, a gentle musk that made Eric long to bite down and bury the sharpest points of himself in Godric, but he controlled himself. They had plenty of time for that later.

While Godric took off his clothes and folded them on the chair by the door, Eric opened his duffel and spread out its contents on the counter. After the tools were organised, he slid on a crisp white lab coat, then draped a stethoscope around his neck. He turned back around to find Godric sitting on the exam table in his underpants, looking for all the world like a young boy about to receive a physical. His expression was one of trepidation, and when Eric took a step toward him, Godric's arms fell between his legs in a gesture of self-consciousness.

"Don't worry," he said, putting a hand on Godric's shoulder. "I'm very good at what I do."

Godric nodded. "Do... do you want me to lie back?"

"No, you can stay just as you are for now. I need to listen to your heart and lungs first." Eric placed the stethoscope earbuds in his ears and the round plate against Godric's chest, using his free hand to rub Godric's back in comforting, circular motions.

"Take a very deep breath and hold it for me." Godric did as he was instructed, holding the air until Eric told him to release it. "Very good. And again, breathe. Good. And... let it out." He moved the metal plate to various positions on either side of Godric's chest, watching with pleasure as his patient’s eyes fluttered closed, doing as he was instructed. It was the beginning of one of their strangest dances, full of the shifting of power. When he was satisfied, Eric removed the earbuds and replaced the tool around his neck. It was strange to hear Godric take such deliberate breaths. The older vampire tended to breathe only when it suited him, and only in short gasps or huffs, for emphasis or when Eric had done a very good job at exciting him.

Now he took the blood pressure cuff from the counter and began to wrap it around Godric's arm, fastening the Velcro tight. There was more power in this bicep than in all of Eric's limbs combined, but Godric held it out for him obediently, watching Eric's movements.

"You're going to feel a little uncomfortable while this gets tighter." Godric nodded, watching as Eric twisted the dials on the gauge to reset them. Eric ran a hand down Godric's neck, then his arm, stroking him as the blood pressure cuff inflated, every squeeze of Eric's fingers causing it to compress his arm further. Godric grimaced at the sensation, but made no attempt to stop it, although he could have had it off and across the room in the blink of an eye. Instead, he waited as the air pushed into the cuff, the grimace fading as he forgot to feel the discomfort and took an interest in the way his skin pinked a bit around the edges. Neither of them had needed any kind of medical treatment in centuries, which made this particular game somewhat more of a novelty than their others.

Finally Eric flicked the valve open and let the air slowly escape. He made no real effort to gauge the pressure reading—it would simply indicate the absence of a beating heart.

Godric made a small noise of relief. "I don't like that part," he said, sounding sheepish.

"It's over now, and your blood pressure is good." Eric gave him a smile and replaced the cuff in the bag. "Now, shall we check your reflexes?"

Godric nodded, and Eric leaned down with a reflex hammer, tapping each of Godric's knees in turn. Godric's legs kicked out, much like any human, but infinitely faster.

"Good." Eric put a hand on Godric's knee. "You have very quick reflexes. You must be a very graceful boy." He slid his hand up Godric's thigh a little, stopping just at the fabric of his boxer-briefs.

Godric dropped his eyes and smiled. "Thank you."

Eric's fingers played with the hem of Godric's shorts. "I'd like to test some other reflexes. Lay back for me."

"Okay." Godric settled back against the table, which Eric had taken care to re-adjust into a relaxed sitting position, so Godric could still look down at what was being done.

He took Godric's right arm and extended it, tapping just in front of his elbow crease, and watched as Godric's forearm jumped.

Godric blinked. "Is it supposed to do that?" Eric nearly laughed at how alarmed Godric looked, knowing that his maker could recite to him every reflex point on the body without pausing (and had, on many occasions in the past, teaching Eric how to play his part convincingly).

"It's very normal," he assured him.

He repeated the test on Godric's other arm, striking it lightly with the dull part of the hammer. Then he ran the pointed tip along the soft skin of Godric's lower arm, eliciting the desired shiver.

Moving down the table a bit, Eric took one of the older vampire's feet in his hands.

"Now just try to ignore what I'm doing here—if you think too hard about it, this test won't work."

Godric nodded. "I'll try to think about something else," he promised, in a voice filled with false sincerity, the one he usually reserved for humans.

Eric held the foot very still and ran the hammer's tip up the flesh of the sole, watching with satisfaction as Godric's toes curled under. Even though it was just bursts of electrical impulse, there was something delicious about controlling Godric's actions. He put the foot down, picking up the other one and repeating the test, these toes mirroring the others in their curl.

"That tickles."

Eric looked up to see a smile playing on Godric's lips, as if he wasn't sure how much it would break character to be amused. The first time they had played at this, Eric had been dismayed to see that his maker was near laughter a few times, until Godric had explained that just because he didn't keep up the pretence all the time, it didn't mean he wasn't enjoying himself. And Eric knew that there was a kind of primal joy for his maker in letting himself be examined, in giving himself over to the care of his attentive child, who had needed more care himself in their time together than Godric ever would.

"Almost done," he said, setting the hammer aside. Still holding the foot, he began to massage it, his thumbs working into the flesh.

Godric sat up a bit more and looked down. "Is a foot massage included in a physical now?"

"I'm testing for muscle tone. Lay back."

With a gentle snort, Godric rested on the cushion. "Yes, doctor."

Eric turned to the counter for a moment, to pour hot water from a thermos onto one of the hand towels he'd brought along. Then he carefully wrapped it around Godric's foot, rubbing the wet cloth against his skin, in between his toes, and up the sole. Godric's feet weren't really dirty, but neither of them minded the extra attention being paid. His maker's feet were small and surprisingly strong, like the rest of him. His delicate toes belied the decades spent squelching through mud and dust, before closed-toed shoes were a common possession. When he removed the towel now, the skin was pink where he'd drawn the blood, the flesh warmer. He leaned down, fingers working in a light massage again, and drew Godric's big toe into his mouth.

There was a little noise of pleasure from the other end of the exam table, and he smiled around the toe, licking it with quick flicks of his tongue. When he was done with this toe, he moved to the next one, licking and sucking each one in turn, biting down on a few of them with his regular teeth. He could hear Godric's breathing above him—an indication that Eric had done his job well up to this point. Time to change the tempo again.

He finished with the toes, then began to massage his way up, from the ankle to the calf muscles, his large hands easily encircling Godric's lower leg as he moved the joints and tested their flexibility. His movements were deliberately slow, the blood from Godric's feet now pinking this new, somewhat hairy skin. He kissed a line up the soft hairs on the leg, ending at the knee. When he could no longer hear breaths coming from Godric, he returned to the counter for the towel and began the process of washing his maker's other foot.

A half-hour had passed before Eric finished with Godric's feet and legs. When he straightened up, he saw a bulge beneath Godric's shorts and struggled against his impulse to pull them down and continue the sucking he'd been doing. But that would bring things to a conclusion too early—this was going to be an evening of highs and lows, and it wasn't close to over yet.

***

Godric was an extraordinarily compliant patient, lying still as Eric examined his stomach. One of Eric's hands was on top of the other as he pressed down at various points, testing for any unusual pain or tenderness that both of them knew he wouldn't find. Godric laid with his head tipped back, eyes closed, a look of contentment on his face as Eric tended to him. When Eric's hands moved up to his neck, fingers pushing gently, he moved his head back farther to give access.

"Your thyroids appear to be in working order," Eric told him.

A slow smile crept across Godric's face, his eyes still closed. There was only a slight note of irony in his voice as he said, "Thank you for checking." Eric's fingers lingered, feeling the veins just beneath the skin, brushing against them. Godric shivered, but didn't move. They both knew that Eric did not own the skin he was touching, not in the way Godric owned the sensitive patches on Eric's neck, or the blood that flowed beneath it. Yet for his maker, this night was about allowing himself to display a level of vulnerability that was normally unthinkable. Even in their most intimate, passionate moments, Godric was always in complete control, of himself if nothing else. Here he let his head incline slightly toward Eric's hand, unthinking, letting Eric set their course. It was an honour to play this game, one that Eric did not take lightly.

Moving away from Godric's neck with a slight reluctance, Eric picked up a candle and the box of matches beside it from the counter.

"Time to cleanse your humours. Are you ready?"

Godric's eyes opened and he glanced over at the counter, where the row of glass bulbs gleamed in the dim light. Then he looked back at Eric, nodding once.

This set was new, bought a few years ago, and of a much sturdier—if blandly utilitarian—design than those they had owned in the past. Eric struck a match and lit the candle, watching as the flame curled around the wick meekly at first, then breathed itself into life. Even if the cups changed, the candles stayed the same: pure beeswax, just like always. It burned cleanly, with hardly any smoke, and was well-suited to their needs.

Eric took the first cup—it was about the size of a woman's fist, maybe smaller. Godric was watching him with interest now, the passive look of contentment gone from his face. Eric held the bulbous cup over the flame just long enough to heat the air inside it, then moved it to Godric's skin, just above his waistline on one side. When he pressed it down, the air inside began to cool almost immediately and they both watched as Godric's flesh was pulled up into a large, round welt inside the cup. A small hiss escaped between Godric's teeth.

Centuries before, their play had included cups of intricate design, usually made of bronze or ceramic. Runes and symbols were etched in them, icons of the healing medicine they were supposed to bring. It had been Godric who first discovered the practice, during their travels in Arabia. Humans with dark, serious eyes and blood that smelled of rich spice had shown him the art of _hijamah_ , a form of cupping that involved the letting of blood. Godric had brought Eric with him the next night, and together they had watched as a man who looked like a cleric, but had the hands of a surgeon, made incisions with a tiny knife, just deep enough to reach the blood beneath the skin. The cup had been placed on afterward, and after a time of waiting and prayer, the cup had been removed, filled with blood. The Arabs had let the blood fall into the ground beneath the patient, unconcerned about it once it left the body; when Godric and Eric played with humans, they were careful to keep the cup upright, sipping at it like a freshly fermented wine.

Eric heated the next cup and placed it opposite his last, enjoying the way it warmed the palm of his hand as he held it against Godric's stomach. In this same way, he placed four more, working his way up in two even lines, until he reached the prime location on Godric's chest. He took special care to super-heat the air inside the next cup, then applied it in one, swift movement. Godric made a noise deep in his throat as it pulled his nipple up, the skin darkening and becoming harder under Eric's gaze.

Eric took a moment to admire his work before repeating the process with the other nipple, eliciting another sigh from his maker. Godric's torso was now lined with round circles of red flesh, trapped under the glass cups. Lower on his body, Eric could see that Godric was becoming hard again. He took the final cup from the counter, and leaned over the exam table, grasping Godric's right leg with his free hand and rotating it out, so the inside of the thigh was facing upward. He was careful not to touch any higher than that—it wasn't time for it yet.

Eric looked up at Godric before starting the last cup. "Can you take another?"

Godric nodded, still engaged in a silent struggle with the cups on his chest, as they sucked more and more of his skin up. Eric knew from experience that the pain was as close to pleasure as to be indistinguishable; the cups sucked as hard as the pull of a hungry vampire mouth, without the distraction of blood sharing. "Please," he said, in a quiet voice.

"This one will be wet," Eric warned.

Godric closed his eyes. "You're the doctor tonight," he said.

Eric bent his head close to Godric's thigh, his lips brushing the soft skin there. He placed several soft kisses, then he lowered his fangs and ran one of the sharp points across Godric's flesh. A line of blood appeared where he had broken the skin; before it could trickle down, he placed the last heated cup over it. Godric moaned as the cup drew out blood, quickly at first, then at a slower rate.

One of the first words Eric had learned in Arabic was _hajm_ : the act of sucking. He had heard it whispered in horror by his victims there, by the strange breed of humans that were so different from those of his homeland. They burned with a dark flame and they knew what his intentions were. It hadn't been as easy to glamour them—sometimes he couldn't manage it at all. But he had still been young then. Godric had shown him how to overpower them without force, to take advantage of their initial moment of terror at his pale Norse skin, made paler by death. Out of all the roles his maker took on for him, Godric took the most pleasure in being a teacher.

Godric was writhing on the table now, being careful not to dislodge the cups. Eric watched the waves of pleasure work across his face until he decided the incision on Godric's thigh had healed. The wet cup was halfway filled, and new blood was no longer being sucked into it. With the gentlest touch he could manage, he pulled the cup off of Godric, dislodging it with a soft _pop_. He turned it upright, containing the blood inside it. He felt Godric's eyes on him as he lifted the cup to his lips to drink it slowly, nearly moaning aloud himself as the dark liquid flowed past his fangs. The taste was so rich and timeworn, like rubbing his cheek against the softest, supplest leather, that it carried him away for a moment, all his senses overwhelmed, until the cup was empty and he blinked open eyelids that he hadn't known he'd shut. When he looked down at Godric again, he saw a look of hungry pleasure on the other vampire's face.

"Do you want to leave the others on?" Eric asked, the heady taste still strong on his tongue.

Godric nodded. "Please, doctor. For a while."

"What my patient wants, my patient gets." Eric paused, still admiring the bright red circles on Godric's chest that puffed up beneath the cups.

He returned to the bottom half of the table and pulled out the stirrups, unfolding them and then reaching for Godric, his arms sliding under the other vampire's body as he helped him move down the table. It was a strange juxtaposition, how light Godric felt in his arms, so easily moved and bent to his will—but when his maker was on top, he felt heavy and solid, so calm in his immense power that Eric felt like a small boy beneath him. It had been a frightening sensation the first few times—Eric had never felt like a small child before, even when he had been one.

Godric's feet fit perfectly in the stirrups, which looked like they had been made for smaller, daintier women's feet. Why a violent offender's ward would need exam tables with stirrups was a question Eric chose not to think about. When he had his maker right up against the edge of the table—hanging off it just slightly—he pushed the stirrups back on either side, spreading Godric's legs. Then he retrieved the medical scissors and began to snip two clean lines through the pair of undershorts that were obstructing his work. Godric shivered as the piece of cloth fluttered to the ground, exposing him now to Eric's watchful gaze.

At this point, Eric paused to put on a pair of gloves, snapping the thin, black latex material against his wrist so that Godric looked down to watch him. "You're going to feel a little pressure," he told him, "try to relax." The first step was the swab of cold medical jelly, squeezed from a tube and rubbed into Godric with one gentle finger, then two. At Eric's touch, Godric's back arched just enough to make the cups on his chest clink against each other.

"Careful," Eric murmured, his fingers still working the jelly into a satisfying slickness.

"Sor—" Godric began, his word cut off with a soft moan as Eric inserted a third finger.

It had taken them a while to reach this point, this allowance of Eric to touch him, to enter spaces within him. It wasn't that Godric had closed any part of himself off from Eric, just that he had been meticulous in his instruction and his insistence that Eric _know how to do it right_ before he tried it himself. Godric disliked watching him fumble. Eric knew his maker valued forms of perfection—Eric's perfection as a warrior was what had drawn Godric to watch him from the beginning. Over time, he had been groomed to be perfection in the form of a hunter and a seducer of his victims. As a lover, he was expected to be just as skillful, and Godric had taken his time showing Eric just the right way to curve his fingers, how to use his tongue, how he might tease pleasure out of the smallest of movements, until Eric had gone half-mad with it some nights, unsure if he wanted to fight his maker or beg him for release.

They had built their games over the years, alternating roles, sometimes with humans, but more often with only each other. Godric indulged him and gave him free reign to play with his food as he liked, even though Eric knew Godric had ceased finding much sexual satisfaction in the weaker, easily-broken beings.

Eric curved his fingers in the way he'd been taught, rubbing firmly upward as he drew them out and back in again. Godric made no noise, only tilted his head back, the muscles in his neck tensing and releasing with each stroke. Their tempo had changed again, the beat quickening, until finally the softest sound escaped from Godric's mouth, and Eric pulled his fingers out for the last time. He stripped off the gloves. There was no need for them—had never really been, but it added to the scene, and Eric rather enjoyed how they clung to his hands like a second skin. With his newly bare fingers, he freed himself from the constraints of his trousers. He let them drop to the ground and kicked them away, the lab coat still encircling the upper half of his legs, feeling more like a cape now as he brushed it back.

"Final examination," he said, stroking his fingers on Godric's thigh, where the cup had drawn the blood out earlier. No trace of the wound remained—the skin was soft and smooth.

"Will it hurt?" Godric was capable of looking so innocent that Eric could almost believe he was worried.

He shook his head, meeting Godric's gaze, noting the way his maker's eyes glistened with anticipation. "Not a bit."

It would have been easy to make the mistake of assuming that the crescendo of tonight's piece was the climax: the moment when they would both reach relief, possibly in tandem, and the flutes would go wild, the drums pounding out the rush of blood in their ears, everything bursting into a cacophony of sound. But Eric had been taught better than that. He knew that the real high point of the performance was this one—when the band silenced in the pit, breaths were taken and held, and Godric clung to him, arms reaching up and fingers digging into his back—as Eric slid into him, everything condensing down to tiny movements in a small space. In that moment there were no toys, no doctor/patient games, nothing else but his maker allowing him inside, welcoming him with a low, pleased growl.

They were very still for several seconds, then Eric pulled out, releasing the trapped skin beneath one of the cups as he did so. At the sudden rush of air on the over-worked flesh, Godric's hips pushed back toward him, as if in a reflex. Eric began an easy rhythm as he removed the cups, waiting until Godric had recovered from each one before moving on to the next, drawing gasps from the other vampire. The welts were a beautiful, dark red, and Eric could smell the blood that had been raised to the surface, just under the skin. He longed to taste it. Soon only the two highest remained, and Eric dislodged them with as much care as he could manage, distracted as he was by the way Godric kept shuddering and contracting around him. When they were gone, Godric pressed himself against Eric's chest, then whimpered at the feel of Eric's stethoscope brushing one of the raised circles. Eric pushed him back down and used his tongue on each nipple in turn, licking the nubs that now stood at their full, blood-filled height. Like the spot on his thigh, the welts began to fade quickly once the cups were removed, Godric's body eagerly returning the blood back where it belonged.

Eric's struggle to retain control was beginning to falter, and he wrapped his arms around Godric, half-lifting him off the table as he pushed into him, over and over. He looked at Godric's face and saw that permission was being given, so he released his fangs and pulled the smaller vampire closer, until his neck was right beside Eric's mouth. His intention was to wait another moment, lingering on the unbroken skin, but with his next thrust, one of his fangs grazed the flesh, and the sudden tiny drops of blood that appeared were too much for him. He plunged into Godric's vein, biting down as deeply as he could. His eyes began to roll back as his mouth filled with blood, his own ecstasy suddenly combined with Godric's—not just the knowledge of it, or the lesser reproduction of it, but the true extent of Godric's pleasure coursed through his body. It burst through him, out of him, as he drank and rocked and held Godric in an iron grip.

When he was spent, he released his hold on the other vampire, retracting his fangs as he did so. Small dribbles of blood flowed from the closing punctures and he licked the skin clean before collapsing onto Godric's chest, resting his head against the other vampire's breastbone. Godric's hand tangled in his hair, holding him there.

Eric looked up, fully aware of the erection that was still trapped between them, hard against his belly. They hadn't reached the end of the piece yet. Godric's smile was lazy, pleased as he watched Eric kiss his way down his chest, where the welts were now only the slightest pink circles, until he reached his destination between Godric's legs. Eric's fangs were up, but there was still blood in his mouth, and it smeared on the already glistening surface as he began to suck. With practised ease, he took all of his maker, his nose pressing against the soft, brown curls on Godric's abdomen. In his human life, he'd had no experience with this particular taste, so he had nothing to compare it to, but it was the only thing besides blood that wasn't bland nothingness in his mouth. He could always taste his maker, sharp and salty—much like blood, but without the richness.

As he worked, he lifted a wrist, knowing that this was not to be a drawn-out session. He felt Godric's strong hands encircle the offered limb, then the wetness of kiss against the soft skin just beneath his palm, just before two points of pain, bright and shocking. It was always shocking, if just for a moment. Then the familiar pull began and he was coursing into Godric, a groan escaping through his full mouth. He forced himself to keep up the rhythm, fighting the urge to sink into the enticing darkness of Godric's pull. A moment later, his mouth was filled with warmth for the second time, and somewhere the final cymbals crashed to indicate the closing of the scene.

***

He stood with his duffel, packed and waiting for Godric to finish exploring the floor so they could go. The sun wasn't dangerously close yet, but Eric wanted some time with his maker in their coffin, before day broke and sleep overcame him. He shifted, restless from the new blood that was working through him—powerful blood that made him want to run, to wield a sword and take to the battlefield in a flurry of murderous action. Finally he heard steps on the wooden floor as Godric returned to him, walking carefully to avoid the rotted spots.

"There are actual padded rooms down that hallway." Godric pointed, looking amused. "What a find, this building of yours. We'll have to use it again."

"Yes," Eric agreed, nodding. "But for now... back to the nest?"

Godric paused, studying him, before smiling again. "You do love your afterglow." He gestured, walking on toward the stairwell entrance. "Off we go, then."

"It's not the afterglow that I love," Eric muttered, as he followed him.

Outside, the fresh air was pleasant, and Eric breathed a large, unnecessary lungful. They both took a few steps before shooting off into the night, descending again when they neared the sprawling, multi-bedroomed house. They used only a few of the rooms; their coffins were in the master bedroom and everything else was simply storage.

Tonight they would share Eric's larger coffin: an unspoken agreement. When Eric climbed in, Godric got in on top of him, closing the lid over them both. Eric put his arms around him, and Godric obliged by curling up like a child against his father's chest, one leg to the side, half-bent. When Eric was alone in his coffin, he found the small space relaxing and almost cozy; with Godric, he felt like the entire world was stretched out around him on all sides, and it was made of nothing but darkness and limbs that intertwined with his own.

Quietly, he asked, "Did you enjoy tonight?"

A minute passed before Godric answered. Time moved differently inside of the coffin. Everything was slower, more languorous. "As much as you did." Then, another minute later: "I'd forgotten how skilled you are with the cups."

A smile played at the edges of Eric's mouth in the blackness. "You taught me."

"Yes. I sometimes forget what a dedicated student you are."

"When the lessons are interesting." Eric shifted, drawing Godric in closer, breathing in the vague antiseptic smell that had leeched into his maker's clothing.

Eric could feel the sun creeping over the horizon, outside the safety of the coffin and the confines of the bedroom. It made his limbs heavy and his thoughts fuzzy, sleep pulling him in like a seductive mistress. "Next time," he mumbled, "let's have a school scene. So you can be the student for once."

There was another stretch of silence, both of them stilling as their bodies responded to the impending daybreak. Then, as they both slipped out of consciousness, in a whisper so low that even Eric wasn't sure he'd heard it, one of them murmured, "I am the student more than you know."

Then the sun rose, and the utter peace of death returned to the inside of the coffin, and for another day, they existed only for each other.


End file.
